Back Roads
by RedFireLight
Summary: It was just supposed to be a routine training mission. Until someone forgot to upload the map. Jolt/Sideswipe, side of Ironhide/Ratchet
1. Chapter 1

Even in the modern world, there still existed places so far isolated, the only intrusion of mankind is in the invisible satellites overhead, or the low thump of a helicopter's blades. Occasionally, when the weather holds clear, a hiker or other adventurer explores the secret places, seeking out one last breath of solitude before the world rushes back into focus, and the frantic pace of life catches them back into its gasping folds again.

The wilds surrounding Mt. Hood, Oregon, was just one of such places. Thousands of acres of timberland warred with unspoiled old growth pines, oblivious to the constant battles for harvesting rights of corporations down in far distant Salem. A few scattered towns huddled against Highway 26, as if the press of logging trucks and ski tourists could hold back the encroaching wilderness around them. Over it all hung the great mountain, the sleeping volcano. Snow-capped year-round, Mt. Hood was the single most photographed mountain in the entire state, gracing countless postcards, stamps, and tacky tourist memorabilia even locals fell prey to. Normally, the great mountain's domain was quiet, a state of serene normality, where nothing out of the ordinary occurred save for a rogue Bigfoot sighting.

However, on this day, just south of Government Camp, a different sort of cryptid was stomping its way through the four feet of accumulated snowfall. Or, rather, a pair of strange creatures, the likes of which any Bigfoot hunter would have given his right arm to witness.

"I was _not_ built for this damn weather."

"Neither of us were, unless your maker was really a snowplow and you've been lying to me this whole time."

"That's so incredibly amusing I've forgotten to laugh at you."

Any other creature would have had difficulty moving through the snow, but the creature in the lead seemed to have little trouble. He was bulkier, shorter, and plowed his way through with an oddly cheerful demeanor. Behind him, however, the other slid cautiously along, moving always in the tracks of the first. His expression was that of a man looking at an article of extreme dissatisfaction—a dinner bill, or his wife's latest suggestion for improving their marriage, perhaps. They continued to bicker, moving through the trees with little difficulty, save for when a particularly resilient branch snapped back to contact the sullen creature's face with a metallic _thwack_ and an undignified curse.

In one such instance, he snarled out something in a strange language, a pair of blades sliding out of concealment on his forearms. He barely moved, and the tree was suddenly minus a needle-covered limb. The other stopped, turning to face his companion with a look of horror and exasperation.

"_Sideswipe!_"

Glancing up from the smote limb, Sideswipe merely blinked. The blades slipped back into their sheaths, painting him in the picture of innocence. "What?"

Muttering his own scathing curse, Jolt stomped back to collect the fallen tree branch, regarding it sadly in his long-fingered hands. "What was that for?" he demanded, stopping his inspection long enough to glower at his friend. "What'd the poor tree do to you anyway?"

"It hit me first," the silver Autobot responded, folding his arms.

"The tree hit you first."

"Yes."

Jolt rolled his optics, a low hiss of air escaping his intakes. He shifted the branch in his hands, before gently placing it to the side of their path, against the trunk it had come from. No sense in hurting the poor fir anymore than they already had. Ignoring the shifting sounds behind him, he paused a moment, crouched over the branch, scanning every inch of it into his databanks. There was just so much to see here. It was beautiful. If they hadn't been on a schedule, he'd have stopped for hours, examining the vast forests for every scrap of flora.

But, unfortunately for the young, closet botanist, they had a rendezvous to make—as the thick silver fingers toying with his spinal extensions reminded him. He let Sideswipe pull him to his feet, and the Corvette allowed them both a brief moment of close contact, before pulling away to keep moving. Jolt took the lead again, slogging through the drifts neither of their vehicle modes could handle, clearing a path for his slimmer, lighter companion. Overhead, the skies were growing darker, the threat of snow getting more and more imminent as time went on. Out here, even for their powerful systems, internet and communications were limited—mostly due to the interference of the terrain and weather patterns, but either way, this left them with no way to contact the others, until they reached the rendezvous point.

This had all been Ironhide's idea. The old veteran had suggested to Prime that their forces needed further training to acclimate to Earth's varying terrains. Especially the young ones, as the original members of Prime's team all had their few years to adjust. The battle in Egypt may have ended in victory, command had reasoned, but it was in no way the deciding factor in the war. And as more Decepticon scouts began to arrive, seeking something the higher-ups hadn't quite figured out just yet, it seemed the entirety of NEST forces were due for a brush-up.

Desert terrain was the one area they all felt comfortable with, and was thus briefly glossed over, citing multiple complaints of sand in sensitive gears. Then came forest—navigating around trees, using the vegetation to your advantage—and shorelines, open plains, mountainsides, everything the weapons master could think of, he drilled into their processors in ways that put human drill sergeants to shame. And it looked, given the vast variety of choices available, as if this training would never end. Especially when it was announced they were moving on to more than mere combat—as Ironhide had so gleefully stated—no, next they would begin instruction on _survival_.

Which was what brought Jolt and Sideswipe to this silent, solitary region of the Pacific Northwest—a culmination of all they'd learned so far, jammed into one massive area of land. The towering trees here would have put even Megatron's vast bulk to shame, so there was little sense in utilizing them as anything but cover. Rivers and lakes dotted the mountains like icy gems, sometimes buried under snowdrifts, and simply waiting until the unwary stepped across their boarders. Some were deep enough to sink Cybertronian frames. Sudden cliffs, combined with the atrocious weather conditions made the situation treacherous for anyone unfamiliar with the area. A perfect chance to test the skills of the young warriors.

They had been dropped via helicopter, as they were a common enough sight in the area, enough to where even the massive Chinooks went unnoticed, into a randomly selected area of forest, and given two days' time to make it to given coordinates. Everyone went in pairs, and no one was exempt. Ironhide stayed—predictably—with Ratchet, The Twins were—mercifully—inseparable, Bumblebee fell in with Prime, and Jolt slipped in beside Sideswipe. The humans were monitoring, for now. Once their Autobot allies were acclimated, they'd begin working on joint-survival situations. But now, it was all on the Autobots.

The day had been relatively uneventful. They'd worked out their marching order quickly enough, and aside from a minor mishap involving a slope and more ice than was healthy for wheeled feet, progress had been slow, but steady. It was dull, in Sideswipe's opinion, this slow march through the forest.

And Jolt's sudden, unbridled _joy_ in the landscape wasn't helping his patience. The stocky blue Autobot stopped more times than his companion cared to count, just to examine some odd bit of vegetation. Occasionally, he'd pick up a piece, delightedly announcing its name, and rattling off whatever factoid he'd found on the vast database of the internet. Sideswipe put up with this, wordlessly, only rolling his optics when Jolt had darted away to dredge up yet another chunk of moss from the frozen ground.

Although, annoyed though he was, he couldn't quite deny that the scrambling and flailing around in the white powder was one of the more endearing sights he'd borne witness to in his life. It was enough to keep his spirits up as they marched.

At least, until it began to snow.

It wasn't terrible at first. Only light flakes fell, drifting down out of a thickly clouded sky, swirling on a gentle wind. Scans still worked, and so long as they continued plodding steadily southward, they would make their destination well within the allotted time. Neither of them paid much attention, and Jolt even continued to duck off their path to examine rare spots of winter growth. But as they kept going, the white powder thickened, the wind kicked up, and visibility, even for their advanced systems, dropped to nearly zero. With the sudden, freak storm came a drastic drop in temperature, and before long, icicles hung off of shoulder plating, formed in wheel wells and along door "wings" and spines.

Sideswipe's wheeled feet locked, as they progressed through rapidly deepening drifts. The pair was forced to pause until he could get the mechanisms revving fast enough to break free of the icy crust. Jolt stood by, fidgeting slightly, even as he offered up a supporting arm. Despite the balance systems keeping him easily on one foot, wind or no wind, Sideswipe leaned his back gratefully against the stockier Autobot, and did not move until the process was complete. Only then did they forge on, through the thickly crowded trees and deepening darkness.

Unsurprisingly, it was Jolt who first found the road. He stumbled forward, surprised at the sudden lack of snow in their path and had to be steadied from behind.

"This... wasn't on any of our maps," Sideswipe murmured, peering over his companion's shoulder. "At least, none of _mine_." He shot the other a speculative glance.

Jolt merely shrugged, moving out onto the road with perhaps more confidence than either of them should have felt, at that point. "Well, it has to go somewhere, right?" he said. Already, pieces of his armor were shifting, his body folding down into the familiar shape of the Volt. When Sideswipe didn't respond, save to fold his arms, he replied, "Would you rather slog around until we drop from exhaustion or drive? I think even _you_ can move around out here."

"Oh yes," Sideswipe retorted. But he began transforming all the same, twisting his slender body back into the sleek Corvette. "Let's drive off into the snowstorm. This is clearly one of your better ideas."

The only response he received was a windshield full of snow as Jolt's tires purposefully spun before he took off. Sideswipe sputtered indignantly before he gave chase. He tried to ignore the skidding of his rear tires as he drove. They were, after all, moving faster now—the faster they went, the sooner they'd reach the others, and be out of this wretched weather. He concentrated on following Jolt's signal, on watching his tail-lights glow dimly in the gloom. How the other Autobot knew where he was going, Sideswipe had no idea. His positioning system was thrown out of alignment by the storm, and while he knew they were headed south, the right direction, any more than that was proving difficult to determine.

Wind whistled around his frame, rattling his undercarriage, and sending gusts of white powder blowing between the two of them. More than once, he found himself wondering if it were possible for the weather to actually flip him over. He wasn't as heavily built as the other Autobots. The thought made him hug the snow-covered road all the more, until his very axles dragged furrows through it. Jolt didn't seem to notice. In fact, he sped up through the straightaway, his headlights casting long shadows through the trees. As before, Sideswipe ducked behind him, following along in his wake. The view never changed, only towering trees, clumps of unidentifiable brush, and the odd, diamond-shaped road sign neither of them could see well enough to read.

::_Doing all right?_:: he asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

::_I could go for a little less wind,_:: Jolt answered simply. ::_If it's this bad in here, it's going to be worse when we get out of the woods._:: Even in their vehicle forms, he could have sworn he felt Jolt turn to look at him. ::_You okay?_::

Sideswipe chuckled dryly. ::_Please._:: There was a distinct impression of him rolling his optics, despite the reassurance in his voice.::_I've survived much worse than a little snow in my undercarriage._:: He paused long enough to maneuver around a large mound of snow in their path. ::_You don't think this is odd, do you?_:: he asked.

::_Think what's odd?_::

::_This road... Shouldn't the highways in this area be plowed? You'd think the humans would take better care of their travel routes._::

The Volt seemed to shrug, picking up his pace as the trees began to thin. To their left, the roadside sloped drastically upwards, becoming a sheer rock face. Boulders and thick undergrowth prevented a clear view of the landscape to their right. They were coming out of the forest, all right, but to where, neither of them could tell. They could be miles away from their destination, or right on top of it. Another road sign flashed by far too quickly to read, its yellow surface caked with white ice. Sideswipe backed off slightly, putting space between his front bumper and the cloud of snow Jolt's tires kicked up. ::_This storm kinda came out of nowhere,_:: Jolt said. ::_Maybe it was. Or maybe it's some old logging road they never use anymore._::

::_I don't see why they would _make_ a road and not _use_ the thing,_:: Sideswipe grumbled. ::_It seems like a great lot of wasted effort for a lazy species..._::

That caused a short laugh from the speeding Volt. ::_I'm sure they have their reasons—_::

His logic was cut short as, without apparent warning, the road curved sharply to the left, following the cliff face. Seeing the sheer drop in front of him at the last moment, the blue Autobot swerved hard, his rear wheels spinning wildly out of control as his rear bumper smashed through the rusted guard rail. He barely had time to transform before he slipped, comm system blaring a distress call, and disappeared over the edge.


	2. Chapter 2

Sideswipe had transformed the moment he saw Jolt begin to skid. He wasn't sure what he could to, but having hands had to help _somehow_. He lunged forward, grasping at shifting armor, for rapidly appearing limbs, anything to hold onto, to haul his companion back up to safety. For once, speed was not enough. Their fingers brushed, and even though he darted as far over the ledge as he dared, he could not catch hold of the blue Autobot.

He sat there, at the edge of the cliff, staring numbly into empty darkness. His arm still dangled over the edge. Comm lines were jammed, something to do with the wind and snow, but all the same, he fired off as many distress calls as he could, the overarching silence a hammer blow to his spark. It was impossible. This couldn't happen. They weren't even fighting—how could he lose him? His body shudders, numb from something besides the ever-present cold.

Jolt wasn't responding.

He wasn't answering.

No, this couldn't be real.

Slowly, intakes hitching, he started to pull back from the edge. The others—he had to get to the others. They needed to know what had happened.

And then _something_ latched onto his shoulder, digging into the thinly armored plating. He jerked in place, balance systems pushed to the limit to compensate for the sudden weight hanging off of him. System warnings popped up, informing him the barbed tip of the _something _was lying dangerously close to a fuel line. Righting himself, he paused long enough to examine whatever it was currently embedded in his shoulder. His optics were met with the sight of a long, thin cord, snaking its way down the cliff face...

Before the image had even fully registered in his processor, he was moving. He grabbed hold of the cord—of the _whip—_and pulled. Gears ground in protest. Deep in his chest, his engine revved, as servos and joints strained to haul up a weight he was never designed to. It didn't matter. Even if he tore his cabling, broke his lines, it didn't matter. He was _not_ letting go. Not until it either broke under the strain, or he did.

Rocking to his feet, he braced, throwing his motion centers into reverse. Though his tires weren't made with snow traction in mind, the sheer force of his acceleration capability kept him stable, even on the slick footing. Slowly, with as much care as he possibly could, Sideswipe backed away from the cliff face, one wheeled foot after the other. A few warnings appeared, including a reminder about the shoulder line, only to be hastily dismissed. Rescue now, maintenance later—in all senses of the word, he vowed, if he managed this little feat.

Bit by bit, the cord coiled on the ground. He pulled harder, faster, willing this to work, praying to whatever deemed fit to watch over them, that there was a response from the other end. There should have been, shouldn't there? A tugging, movement—something. The realization only made him work faster, until warnings flared far more brightly than they should have. And as soon as blue armor rose into view, he had his answer.

One of Jolt's arms was hanging by a few cables, while the other remained attached to the whip currently digging dents into Sideswipe's arm. His chest plating was dented, scuffed, and his whole body moved only limply, his optics offlined. Judging from the scrapes on his helm, he'd taken a rather severe blow there on his little tumble down the cliff.

Hauling him the rest of the way took only moments, then Sideswipe had the stockier Autobot gathered into his arms, holding him as tightly and as closely as he could. Everything seemed to be functioning, as near as he could tell. Jolt's signal was still strong, the armor under his hands still shifting occasionally. And without any medical scanners to speak of, those vague signs of life were all he had to tell him if his companion were still among the functioning. With no other options immediately presenting themselves, he simply held him for what seemed like hours, unable to let go, wanting to reassure himself Jolt was _here._ He ignored the whip embedded in his shoulder, the weather whipping around them, filling chinks in armor plating with heavy white powder, caring for nothing but the other life in his arms.

At least until his joints began to ice over.

Sitting out here, exposed like this, was turning out to be unhealthy for the pair of them, despite his lack of injury. There had to be somewhere they could take cover. Arms still tightly wound around his companion, Sideswipe struggled up to his feet, glancing back the way they'd come. The wind had been less under the trees... hadn't it?

Wheels slipping on the road, he started dragging them both back toward the forest. It wasn't as far from their current position as it could have been—a small mercy. Jolt's body shifted awkwardly in his grasp, and each step sent icicles crackling off of plating and joints. Snow clogged his vents until internal heating could melt it. Still, he plowed forward. If he was feeling this much discomfort, he could only imagine how bad it was for Jolt. He tried brushing off any ice that formed on blue armor, but focusing on that, and walking, was difficult.

He'd never been happier to see a plant in his entire existence. No sooner had they hit the treeline, then he was hauling Jolt under the nearest pine, and settling him against the trunk before collapsing beside him. Conditions had, thankfully, improved under here. The wind was all but dead, and the tree blocked most of the snowfall. Sideswipe relaxed, for a moment, his vents rushing in a sigh. Better now—they could handle it from here, until the others could be reached.

But... until the others could be reached... he was the only one for miles. And Jolt needed serious attention. Trouble was, he had no idea how to treat _anything_, let alone the injuries the other had sustained. There was one thing, however, he figured anyone with half a processor could figure out. Cold had never been good for their systems, something the humans figured out with alarming speed.

He shifted the other, wrapping an arm back around his shoulders, a leg around his waist, pulling Jolt tight against his chest. The whip cabling tangled a little, the hook pulling at his plating, and he fought down the wince, once again shutting off the nagging red displays. This wasn't much, he wasn't Ratchet by any stretch of the imagination, yet he heightened his internal heating as far as it would go. If they were both extraordinarily lucky, it would do Jolt some good, maybe even make him come around before his energy levels bottomed out.

After a few hours, he stopped keeping track of time. Every so often, he sent out a small burst of signal data, detailing their position over secure channels. If anyone was in the area, they'd hear it, and find them. At least, he hoped they would. There was only so much time he could keep his temperature up for, before he hit problems of his own.

"_Ow_."

The simple word was quiet, barely audible over the weather, but it was a word nonetheless. He looked down, tilting his head to better see the other's face, and was rewarded with the sight of dimly lit optics. Something in him relaxed. He hadn't even been aware of the tension.

"Welcome back," he murmured, his voice equally low.

"Where're...?" Blue-armored limbs struggled slightly, fighting to orient their owner.

In response, his arms tightened reflexively around his companion, and his head dipped, resting against Jolt's uninjured shoulder. "Easy," he said, keeping his tone at that same, level place. "Just relax. I've got you." A considering pause. "Your head took quite the hit, it looks like..."

"Feels like it."

There was quiet, easy silence for a while. So long as Jolt was, more or less, functioning again, it was easier to relax, not to dwell on what could have been. Deciding the other was occupied running diagnostics—as he should have been—Sideswipe concentrated instead on getting a connection through. It was important, now, to notify the others of their situation. They weren't due back for another day at least. And if Jolt's condition turned out to be something dangerous, they needed their medic—as soon as possible.

A touch against his shoulder snapped his concentration. It wouldn't have, except for the whip still in him. He shuttered his optics, lifting his head before focusing them again. Jolt's long fingers were carefully working the hooked barb out of silver armor, his undamaged arm poised at an awkward angle for the procedure. The scrape of metal on paint was almost more painful than the actual injury itself. Surprisingly, Sideswipe said nothing about the damage to his precious detailing, instead he simply shut off sensory reception in the area. "It can wait," he said, finally. "Work on it when you've had your own repairs."

Still, the stocky blue Autobot continued. He seemed intent on finishing the job, until Sideswipe physically moved his hand away, gently but firmly. "It's superficial... I'll make you repaint it when we get back."

Jolt shook his head slightly, and winced. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I... didn't mean to..."

"To what? Save your life?" When no response came immediately, Sideswipe continued, affecting an unconcerned tone. "_Thankfully_, it won't be leaving too much of a mark. And I can always say I was wounded saving the life of a wayward botanist. The others might just throw a parade in my honor."

He received a glare for his efforts, and only grinned. Better he annoyed his companion than he let Jolt sit there stewing in some bizarre, self-inflicted misery. Why the other got into these moods, he didn't know. But he was always more than happy to tease him out of them—or do whatever _else_ may be required to do the job. Predictably, the glare abated after a moment, and Jolt shifted closer, letting his head fall back against Sideswipe's chest. No further attempts to remove the whip were made, which Sideswipe took as a sign to resume his transmissions.

And again, he was distracted. This time, by the body in his arms slowly going limp.


	3. Chapter 3

Concerned, he sat forward, giving Jolt a little shake. Jolt stayed still, his optics dark. Another shake, this one harder. "Hey. Stay with me here," he said, raising his voice. "Jolt. Wake up."

"Mmn?"

"Wake up. Talk to me."

Jolt mumbled a negative, moving to bury his head under the other's. "Hurts," was all he said coherently.

"Why?" Sideswipe pressed, tightening his arms around blue armor. He had to keep Jolt alert. The last thing either of them needed was for him to fall into stasis. There was still no response from the others, and his energy levels, oddly enough, were already beginning to fall. "What happened down there...?"

"I don't... remember," Jolt murmured, stirring. "I tried... grabbing onto something. And... guess it didn't work." His head tilted as he glanced down at his heavily damaged arm. "Then I landed on my head... or something..." A lengthy pause while he tried to gather his thoughts. "I don't remember the whip... it just... happened."

"Glad it did," Sidesiwpe told him, his voice suddenly thick. He blinked, slowly shaking his head from side to side. The persistent warning he'd ignored was back. And now, with his friend finally safe, he had a moment to check on it. He ran a diagnostic—a short one, just to check on what was so important. Everything checked out, save for one, glaring problem.

**FUEL LINE BREACH.**

Not... good.

It explained the rapidly decreasing energy in his systems, but far from the news he needed. It must have been the shoulder—the hook on the whip's end must have done the deed when Jolt had tried removing it. Considering he was still online... maybe it was only a small breach. Maybe his auto-repair function could get it taken care of before it became too much of a problem. So, he said nothing, instead opting to pepper Jolt with questions when it seemed the other Autobot was drifting again.

Of course, this plan hinged on Sideswipe's staying conscious until help arrived. Listening to Jolt answer his mundane little questions, he half fell offline once. Only the feeling of his head dropping forward stopped him. Returning to full consciousness, he felt Jolt's optics on him, and the slow drip of fluid down his shoulder armor.

Very not good.

"Sideswipe?" Once again, Jolt shifted, turning slightly to look at him. Long fingers brushed over his faceplates, gently. A good sign, if the blue Autobot felt up to moving. "You okay...?"

"Mm... Only resting," he slurred. "Hard work... pulling you up..." His head leaned into the touch, savoring it as something to keep his processor focused. "Just... hey... tell me about... this tree."

Stunned silence.

"Are... you sure you're okay?" Jolt asked, sounding even more concerned—as concerned as one could sound, coming from down a long tunnel. When had Jolt gone down a tunnel? He could have sworn the other was right there, curled against him. "You... just asked me to talk about a tree."

He shook himself, trying to reboot his optics. They were malfunctioning. That had to be why they were suddenly going dim. Why it was suddenly getting colder... he didn't know. Maybe the wind had picked up again. "M'fine," he said, finally. "Fine... jus'... keep talking to me..."

"If... you're sure."

Jolt got as far as the scientific name of their sheltering conifer before his vision went dark. He felt himself slide sideways, heard someone, distantly, anxiously, calling his name, as everything shut down.

* * *

::I believe we're lost.::

::Are not.::

::We have not seen any sign of the road in hours. My navigation systems tell us we're headed in entirely the wrong direction. And I have seen that tree at least three times by now.::

::I know where we are.::

::Oh? Really? Please, enlighten me. I'd like to inform Prime of our position the next time I have to thaw your joints out.::

::It was one wrong turn. How much longer are you going to bring that up?::

::Until you, Ironhide, concede to the fact that you have no idea where we are.::

Silence.

::We are on earth.::

The frustrated rev of an engine needed no translation. Neither did the superior chuckle from the other vehicle.

Despite the worsening storm, Ironhide wasn't lying when he said he knew where they were. Unlike some, who would remain silver, egocentric, and nameless, he'd downloaded topographical maps, overlaid them with public and logging roadways, and passed the data on to his partner. Coupled with his internal compass, navigating the wilderness was simple enough.

Or at least, it would have been, had his audials not been lectured into static by the Autobot following closely on his tailgate. The way Ratchet stuck close to him, it was as if the medic actually thought it was possible for them to become separated on these winding backroads. Once or twice, Ironhide purposefully slammed on his breaks, mostly out of curiosity—to see if his friend would actually ram into his rear bumper. So far, his tailgate remained free of any neon paint. Although, that would have been a more convenient way to explain why _other_ parts of him were similarly scraped...

Well, in his defense, it had been _cold_ and his joints were locking up. There hadn't been another viable option. But it _had _been a while since—

He was snapped out of his musings, thankfully, as they were quickly veering off into territory best left unexplored, by the sudden blaring of a distress signal. Brakes slammed on, throwing up huge washes of snow.

::Ratchet.::

He needn't have bothered saying anything at all. ::I have it. Tracking it now.::

With the ease of long familiarity, he slowed, allowing the medic to take the lead. Ratchet's scanners were more attuned to this sort of thing, and his vehicle mode could plow the way through without his help. Best the medic arrived first anyway – if there was a problem, he was best equipped to handle it.

::It's Jolt,:: Ratchet announced, picking up speed and veering to the east. ::Seems as if they've gone off course.::

::Going to scrap that fender foot when I see him,:: Ironhide retorted. ::I told them to pay attention. You heard me.::

::Yes, I did. Several times.::

::Too busy making _infatuated _faces at each other... _Eugh._::

Of all the pairings... the most overconfident had to join forces with the Autobot most likely to run into trouble. One didn't plan, and the other felt he didn't need to. What could possibly have possessed whatever higher power existed to throw both of them to Earth, and then made them _like_ each other? It simply wasn't fair. If they weren't being peeled out of a crater in the tarmac somewhere, their respective afts were being pieced back together in the medbay. Ironhide was of the opinion his silver student should have known better—that the recklessness was hardly Jolt's fault. After all, the stocky little Autobot did what he could to fit in, and fought well. Wasn't his fault he'd fallen in with a Corvette who did nothing to discourage Jolt's spontaneous streak.

His grumbling silenced as Ratchet began slowing, weaving through trees. They had to be getting closer. And, in short order, the medic had transformed, kneeling before a snowdrift, and brushing away the powder with careful hands. Every motion brought out another flash of bright armor, mingled blue and silver, and the weapons master suddenly felt his spark drop a few inches in his scarred old chest. Both Autobots were sprawled on their side, practically clinging to one another. Jolt's body was the most obviously damaged, while Sideswipe seemed unmarked, save for a frozen puddle of fluid beneath one shoulder. He took a step forward.

"I have life signs from both of them," Ratchet told him automatically. Steam was rising from his armor, snowflakes melting on contact as his internal temperature kicked up to levels any other frame would have difficulty handling. "They'll be fine once I bring them around." His hands hovered over the worst injuries, letting the accumulated ice melt before any serious repairs were begun. He looked up, briefly meeting his partner's gaze before turning back to work. It was all the reassurance he needed to give. "See if you can contact the others. We need evac immediately."

Nodding, he moved off, keeping a lock on Ratchet's signal. The last thing they needed was to get completely separated out here. But with the trees helping to obscure contact, there was no choice but to move into a clear area, if they wanted to get any sort of signal out. Whatever these two had gotten into, they could explain later, he decided, grimly stepping over a fallen tree nearly twice his size. Right now, following the doctor's orders was priority, to ensure there _could_ be an interrogation later.

It seemed, however, that luck was on their side. The storm was dying down as he reached a clearing, and Prime was within range. The mission was quickly scrubbed in favor of evac, and in short order, helicopters had flown in to the scene, collecting the unconscious pair, as well as the hovering medic for return to base, and more effective medical attention.

* * *

When he came back online, it was all at once, a sudden rush of systems rebooting, of air into cooling vents, and sensation back into long limbs. At first, he had no idea of where he was. The last thing he remembered was the forest. Jolt's voice. Cold. And then nothing. His optics were still coming back, flooding his vision with a blur of white, and too-bright lights. He stirred, raising a hand to cover his them, only to have it pushed back down by a heavy, rough hand.

"Easy," someone said, their voice a low rumble. "Doc' said you were not to come online so soon... guess he was wrong. For once."

He relaxed immediately, hearing that. A smirk tugged at his faceplates. "Took you long enough, Old Timer," he murmured. "Roads too rough for you?"

The taunt earned him a nudge in the shoulder. "Should beat some respect into you for that one," Ironhide grumbled. "But you did enough damage on your own. Both of you."

A beat of silence, before he started struggling to sit up. Everything felt sluggish, slow and tired, as if he were still half-frozen out there. Jolt—where was Jolt? Once again, Ironhide forced him back down, muttering what anyone else would have heard as curses. "I said take it easy," he barked. "Unless you want the medic dismantling your motor centers, you will listen. Hmnf!"

Sullen, the silver Autobot did as he was told, finally taking stock of his situation. His shoulder was patched, the welds as flawless as ever. A temporary refueling line ran from an opened arm panel to one of the reserve stocks of energon. Several space heaters—_space heaters_ of all things—were placed at intervals around him, providing for a comfortable warmth against his exterior plating. The room itself was unfamiliar, save for the big, black Autobot standing guard beside him, which meant they were still on-site. He rather hoped the weather was the reason for the delay, and not _other_ factors.

"How is he?" he asked, pretending to be incredibly interested in the fuel line.

"Functioning," Ironhide said. "Arm is going to take a while to mend, but... Ratchet has him well in hand. Minor damage elsewhere." A creak of metal as the elder warrior shrugged. "Nothing he cannot fix."

Shuttering his optics, he allowed himself a weak, relieved sound. Neither spoke for a few moments, one to absorb the news, and the other to wait for him.

"Asking for you, too," Ironhide went on, after a moment. Sideswipe turned his head toward him, quirking an optic ridge. In response, he received another shrug, accompanied by an embarrassed mutter of explicatives best left unprinted. Smirking, he spared his teacher further humiliation, and looked away. "You want to go, or what?"

A scarred black hand came into view, and, without a hesitation, Sideswipe grasped it. Ironhide hauled him to his feet without comment, pausing only long enough to steady the slender Autobot while Sideswipe detached the external fuel line, before starting out of the little room. To the younger's credit, he only wobbled a few times, before his balancing gyros took over. He felt all right, even if diagnostics were reading low fuel levels. It would be enough for now. Still, Ironhide hovered after him, like a sort of protective shadow. They both knew what that meant—and neither chose to comment on it.

The pair moved out into an unfamiliar hangar. It was obvious the walls of the little room they'd left had been hastily constructed. A few other "cubicles" were spaced out across the hangar floor, as NEST personnel wandered here and there around them, servicing vehicles, talking, and even reporting to the massive red and blue form standing near the hangar doors.

_Optimus._

Sideswipe pointedly looked away, waiting for Ironhide to guide him along. He could make his report to Prime later. For now, he had someone more important to speak with.

He was led to another cubicle, and nodded inside. No further prompting was necessary. He slipped in, glancing warily around for a neon form. Finding none, his attention focused solely on the bright blue form curled on the table. There were fresh welds all over blue armor, dents hammered out, and scrapes smoothed over. More space heaters were placed around Jolt, and his optics were offlined, the stocky Autobot deep in recharge for the moment.

That, however, did not stop him. He eased over to the table, leaning on it for support. His shoulder ached, but he ignore it for the sake of reaching out to run his fingers lightly over Jolt's faceplates. There was a drowsy murmur, but no other reaction. He smirked. Ducking his head, he rested his forehead against the other's, shuttering his optics. Safe... his little blue warrior was safe. He'd done it.

A fact only reinforced by long fingers suddenly reaching up to touch his shoulder. The smirk broadened into a real smile. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low, only for the Autobot on the table. "How's your head, hm?"

The little grumble told him everything he needed to know. He chuckled, not moving away, or even opening his optics. The tugging on his shoulder grew more insistent, and he couldn't resist. It took some maneuvering, some jostling on Jolt's part, but eventually, the pair ended up curled together on the table. Sideswipe's head lay on Jolt's chest, his legs wound around the other's. Jolt's fingers trailed up and down silver spinal armor, his other working into patches of Sideswipe's plating.

For an instant, the moments of panic resurfaced in both of their processors, quickly chased away by reassuring touches, by the pulse of another spark nearby. But it could have ended up so very different. This hadn't even been a combat scenario, and they'd nearly lost one another. It could never... never happen again.

"I'm... going to promise you something," Sideswipe said, softly, hesitating. It sounded ridiculous in his head. How was it going to sound aloud?

Jolt's only answer was a quiet laugh. "You don't have to," he said. "I get it."

There was silence for a moment, until Sideswipe himself chuckled, and curled tighter around his companion, thankful he was understood, without having to voice anything at all. They remained sprawled together for the rest of Jolt's recovery—much to Ratchet's annoyance.

After all, they'd promised.


End file.
